Leaving Avonlea Behind
by Honey1
Summary: Hetty is off to join the Dales in England. The rest of this story is to come soon. Part one in an series of stories that I'm writting.


  
  


Chapter one

  
  


The year is now 1918. Felix has come back alive from the Great War. But Sadly he lost a leg. Felix and Izzy are now married and are the proud parents of Muriel and Clive. Felicilty and Gus in larged their family with baby Felix. Now there are the proud parents of Jackson; Sara and Felix. Andrew had quite the Avonlea school in the year 1916 and moved to South America. Hetty took over the school once again. Cecily fistened off at Queens in the year 1917 and took over the Avonlea school from Hetty. Hetty having noting to do; decided to move to England and live with Jasper, Olivia, Montgomery and Alecia.

  
  
  
  


Chapter two

  
  


Hetty walked into the palor of Rose Cottage. She walked over to her beloved sisters; Ruth; piano. She remembered every note Ruth played. I can't believe that Ruth will never again play the piano again. After Ruth died I convered the piano to remember Ruth's memory. Then one day in 1904 Olivia uncovered it and tuned it so that Sylivia Grey could have a tuned piano.

  
  


"Olivia King have you taken a leave of your senses? You know very well I won't allow anyone to lay a finger on Ruth's piano."

  
  


"I hoped you wouldn't mind, Hetty. It needed to be tuned; so Andrew helped me take the covers off. And then, well I just couldn't resist playing a little." Olivia fingers lingered on the keys. "I really don't think Ruth would have objected."

  
  


Puzzled; Sara gazed from her younger to her older aunt. Both stood stiffly, gazing at each other. Both, for some reason had tears in their eyes.

  
  


"Do you mean that this....," her fingers barely tipped the ebony lid; "this piano belonged to my mother?"

  
  


"Don't you touch it," snapped Hetty. "Olivia, I want you to cover it up decently, just the way it was. Sara Stanly, did you hear what I said?"

  
  


But Sara seemed to have been afflicated with sudden deafness. She moved towards the piano as though attracted by a magnet. Reaching out, she stroked the ivory keys. "My mother," she whispered. "Her hands touched these same keys...."

  
  


"Go wash that muck off your knee this minute, Sara," ordered Hetty. Her voice had an edge of distress to it. "You do as I say, Olivia, and cover it up the way it was."

  
  


Normally Olivia dreaded any confrontation with her dogmatic elder sister, byut there comes a time when even the most timid of souls must gird for battle. She took a deep breath. "Hetty," she said. "Sylvia Grey will have need of the piano when she visits. That is why I wanted to tune it."

  
  


Hetty paused in the act of freeing her crushed hat from its prison atop her head. "Just because a person is musical doesn't mean she can expect pianos wherever she goes! I can't allow just anyone to play Ruth's piano, Olivia. You do realize that, don't you."

  
  


"Sylvia isn't just anyone, Hetty. She's a gifted singer, who will require a piano to pratice on. Besides, it will help her feel at home. The poor soul has no one left in the world to care for her."

  
  


"Please, Aunt Hetty, I don't know who Sylvia is," chimed in Sara. "But I can't help feeling for her, if she's all alone in the world. A piano might ease her heart. As for me, if you cover it up, it would be just as if mother died all over again."

  
  


"I am sick to death of you and your theatrics, Sara. You children seem to have death on the brain. "

Olivia was staring at Sara, who had flung both arms along the piano keys in an impulsive gesture of protection. 

  
  


"I'm sure Ruth would have wanted others to enjoy her piano, Hetty," said Olivia gently. "Especially her only daughter."

  
  


A single tear crept down Hetty's cheek and plopped onto the hat she now held in her bony hands. She blinked. "Ruth loved the piano so...."

  
  


Sara lifted her face from the keys. "Please, Aunt Hetty. Hearing mother's piano would make me feel as if a tiny part of her were still alive."

  
  


Hetty swallowed. Her voice sounded hoarse. "Very well, if you insist." She turned away, striving to control her emotions. It was years now since her faviote sister, Ruth, had died. At the time Hetty had attempted to bury her grief under a mutitude of domestic and community activies. Ruth's beloved piano had been pushed back into a conor of the parlor, where it had stood, covered and silent, through summer and winter. As the years passed, it flattened top had been used to display framed family portraits and silver knickknacks, until its original musical purpose had been all but forgotten.

  
  


Now, unexpectedly, it voice had sung out, stirring memories in Hetty, which threatened to bring her grief flooding back.

  
  


Sensing her aunt's distress, Sara crept up to her, putting her arms around her waist. "Thank you, Aunt Hetty. Thank you, thank you, thank you," she whispered.

  
  


Hetty patted her head, unable to speak.

  
  


She walked into the kitchen. She could almost smell Olivia's cooking. She could almost see Olivia standing over by the strove strilling a pot of gravey. She could almost hear Sara banging the kicten door; when she came in and boucing around telling Olivia and her some story she thought up.

  
  


She walked up the stairs to Sara's room. She remembered when Sara first came to like at Rose Cottage. How scared she looked. How she locked herself in her room after Hetty tossed her Nanny Louisa out.

  
  


She looked at the old antique clock on the mantle. She remembered how Sara and Olivia and Jasper found a treasure in the that old clock.

  
  


Jasper carefully removed the back of the clock and reached in. "Wait - wait - no, I don't th-think - yes, there is something in here."

  
  


Sara's yes widened. "I knew it! I just knew it!"

  
  


Jasper removed a small object and placed it on the table.

  
  


"Oh, no," howled Sara, "it's only the winding key."

  
  


"What did I tell you," Hetty said frostily, "tresure indeed."

  
  


But Jasper was still groping in the clock, reaching future into its deep base. "Now, just a-oh my, here now -."

  
  


"What, Jasper! What?" Hetty was almost shouting. Jasper looked up and grinned as he removed a black leather pouch. Everyone leaned in, breathing as one. Jasper opened the pouch. Diamond brooches, ruby rings, an emerald necklace, a gold watch, fine gold chains and unset gems spilled out on the table! It was incredible! Sara could hardly believe what she was seeing.

  
  


"Jewels," she breathed, "real jewels."

  
  


Hetty reached into the pouch and pulled out a roll of old documents. She started to read them. Her eyes windened.

  
  


"These are mining shares. Good heavens, each one is worth five hundred dollars and there are - there must be at least ten deeds here!"

  
  


Olivia picked up one of the deeds and read aloud from the back of it.

  
  


"'William Tyler - one hundred shares. Five hundred dollars total value.' This was Will's gift to Arabella, his name on it proves beyond a shadow of a doubt."

  
  


Hetty looked over at the bed. She remembered comming home one night and finding Sara in bed asleep; and the next moring how Sara told her she snuck out to go with Booth Elliote.

  
  


She remembered when Sara decided to get away for a while and had Jo Pitts take her place. What a mess she was in with that Jo.

  
  


"Sara," she asked with great trepidation, "do you think, after you finish your breakfast ... I'm not rushing you, mind you, take as long as you wish ... but I wondered if perhaps you might like to tidy up your room?"

  
  


"Nope."

  
  


Hetty sucked in her breath. "Fine, fine, that's absolutely fine, don't get upset, dear." She peered anxiously at Jo. "You don't have to do anything, dear. You can just sit and twiddle your thumbs, if that's what you desire."

  
  


Idly, Jo twirled her knife and looked up at Hetty, who was wiping crumbs off the kitchen table. "Hey, you!" Jo said sharply.

  
  


Hetty looked up with trepidation. Jo flashed her a winning smile. "I was just thinkin', it's a real nice day. How's about a pinic, ya old bag?"

  
  


Old bag? Blood rushed to Hetty's head. In the old days she would have cheerfully tanned a child's bottom for indulging in such indelicate, disrespectful language. But not now. Now she restrained herself.

  
  


"A pinic? " she murmured, all sweetness and light. "Of course. Yes. Charming. Who shall we invite? Felix and Felicilty?"

  
  


"Nope," repiled Jo Pitts. "Just me...an' you."

  
  


Sheer delight caused Hetty to flush from her throat to her cheeks. Wonder of wonders! Sara wanted to go on a pinic, just the two of them? Hetty was thrilled. This was progress!

  
  


"Isn't that a lovely idea, dear!" she replied, leaning over and fondly patting the top of Jo's blond head. "I do believe you are on the mend, child. I'll make some sandwiches and lemonade as quickly as I can!"

  
  


"Oh sure," said Jo, leaping to her feet, causing the craft to sway tipsily. "Trade ya places."

  
  


"Be careful!" cried Hetty. "One mustn't stand up in a boat ... one must creep carefully ... like so." With that, she gingerly got down on all fours and crawled towards Jo, who grinned devilishly and began to jump up and down, rocking the boat until it lurched precariously from side to side. Hetty clutched at the gunwales. "No! No! Don't do that!" she screamed, suddenly forgetting her own warning and standing up to stop Jo. "We're going to have an accident!"

  
  


Too late. With a whoop and a holler, Jo shoved Hetty overboard. The poor woman sank, than rose sputtering in shock as Jo rowed merrily away, chuckling at the sight of Hetty dog-paddling furiously to keep afloat.

  
  


Hetty walked out of Sara's room and down the hall to Olivia's old room. She remembered when she and Olivia first moved into Rose Cottage. How they lovely and carefully decorted Rose Cottage. How they finally felt free with their very own home. 

  
  


She remembered how Jasper and Olivia were going to elope. How she caught on and took over their wedding. She remembered almost runing their wedding.

  
  


Just as Hetty arrived around the corner of the cottage, the ladder crashed to the ground. Jasper fell through the tree limbs and landed at her feet among the rosebush thorns and the litter of under-things, a pair of bloomers over his head.

  
  


Olivia screamed again, and she and Sara disappeared from the upstairs window, ran from the room and hurtled down the stairs.

  
  


Still convinced that the groaning apparition in her rosebushes was an intruder, Hetty lost no time in attacking the culprit. How dare anybody try to sneak into Rose Cottage? Over her dead body would they get away with it! She was whacking the figure unmercifully with her broom when Sara ran around the corner of the house.

  
  


"Aunt Hetty! Stop! It's Jasper!" her niece cried frantically.

  
  


Hetty stared at Sara and stopped. She whipped the bloomers off the so-called intruder's head and looked at the woebegone Jasper in silent disbelief.

  
  


"Jasper Dale!" she exploded. "What in the name of Providence are you doing here?"

  
  


Olivia appeared around the corner of the house and immediately dropped to her knees by her groaning fiancé's side. "Jasper? Are you all right?" she cried.

  
  


Hetty was slowly putting two and two together. She looked down at the ladder lying on the ground and up to the open window. She picked up one of Olivia's underthings and hastily hid it behind her back. The open, upturned valise among the bushes caught her eye, and a horrified experssion came over her face as the penny dropped.

  
  


"Olivia King! As I live and breathe. You were about to elo-, elo-" As hard as she tried, she couldn't for the life of her get the world out.

  
  


"Elope." Jasper finished the sentence for her.

  
  


"Elope," echoed Hetty, in a tone that was more like a croak than her natural speaking voice.

  
  


Sara beamed hopefully. "Isn't it romantic?"

  
  


"It is despicable!" Hetty raged, and she began hitting Jasper with the broom again with newfound energy. "How dare you even think of tarnishing the King name in such a manner?"

  
  


Olivia was on her feet in a second and grabbed the broom away from her sister with surprising strength. "Stop that! Stop it, Hetty! It was my idea!"

  
  


Hetty stared at Olivia, hardly comprehending what she had said. "Your idea?" she repeated. "Your idea?" She grabbed the broom back.

  
  


Sara held her breath. She had never seen her Aunt Hetty in such a state before.

  
  


Hetty stood quite still, gathering her wits. Three faces, white with shock, watched her from the shadows of the garden.

  
  


"Well," she contiuned quietly, giving Jasper and Olivia the evil eye, "it's obvious that neither of you is capable of thinking in a rational manner. So! Jasper Dale!" she said, jabbing at the poor man with the broom handle. "Home!" She turned fiercely to her niece "Sara Stanley! Bed!" She whirled around and glared at Olivia. Taking her by her arm, she pulled her towards the front door at Rose Cottage. "Olivia! Inside! From now on, I'm in charge!"

  
  


Olivia almost collided with her sister as Hetty entered the parlor from the hall, her face buried in yet another list.

  
  


"Hetty King! This is supposed to be a family wedding," began a very agitated Olivia. "I don't even know some of these people."

  
  


Hetty held her hand up for silence and then rubbed her forehead fretfully with it. "Olivia. Don't start! It took me all day to compile that guest list. You have no idea how difficult it is to do without slighting people right and left. Just be thankful I did it for you."

  
  


"But it just isn't what we planned! Jasper wants to keep it simple!" Olivia was trying desperately to keep her voice controlled, but a note of panic rang through loud and clear.

  
  


"This is your wedding, Olivia, not Jasper's. Remember that!" said Hetty. "Now, about the flowers," she continued, blind to Olivia's frustration. "There's nothing worth looking at locally, that's for sure. I'll have to send to Charlottetown, I suppose ..." She turned decisively and left the room.

  
  


"Hetty!" Olivia followed, trying to get her sister's attention.

  
  


The minute Sara heard the word "flowers" she joined the parade into the hall.

  
  


"Felicilty and I are doing the flowers," she said to her aunt's back.

  
  


"Don't be silly, Sara," Hetty said with a small chuckle that both Sara and Olivia found extremely irritating.

  
  


"But the Queen Anne's Lace!:" insisted Sara. "What about the Queen Anne's Lace Felicilty and I found?"

  
  


"It can stay in Mrs. Biggins's garden where it belongs," replied Hetty lightly, not realizing the feelings she had trod on as she disappeared through the kitchen door.

  
  


Olivia was almost shaking she was so upset "Oh I give up! Obviously what I want doesn't matter!" She stomped up the stairs.

  
  


Hetty poked her nose out form the kitchen door in surprise and looked at Sara as if to say, "What do you suppose has gotten into her?"

  
  


Sara glared at Hetty and flounced after Olivia.

  
  


"I had hoped for a little cooperation!" Hetty called after them both of them, and then, shaking her head at the load she had to bear, she disappeared back into the kicten.

  
  


Hetty threw her latest plan on the table. "Oh, now that's gratitude for you! I go to all this trouble ... bending over backwards...."

  
  


"Nobody asked you to, Hetty, for heaven's sake!" cried Olivia, and fighting back tears of frustration, she turned her back on her sister.

  
  


"And I suppose I should have let you run off into the night like a pair of ... gypsies!" Hetty spat out the word as if it tasted like poison. "I wanted you to have the kind of wedding you could be proud of!"

  
  


"No! Oh no! You did not!" Olivia restorted, spinning around to look at Hetty with angry tears in her eyes. "You wanted a wedding that you would be proud of, Hetty King! Well, whose wedding is this anyway, mine or yours?"

Hetty turned her back on her sister and busied herself immediately at the counter. "What a ridiculous question, Olivia," she said quietly, her tone brittle with emotion.

  
  


But Olivia wasn't to be stopped, and her voice rose. "The only good thing about this whole business is that it will soon be over with and I'll be able to move away from your constant interfering!"

  
  


Hetty's back stiffened and she stood stunned and hurt. Olivia was so angry she couldn't apologize, even through she knew she had gone one step too far. Instead, she escaped, stomping out of the room. The front door slammed.

  
  


Hetty turned desperately to her niece, imploring her to understand.

  
  


"You've spoiled everything!" cried Sara, who, by this time, was close to tears herself, so upset was she with Hetty for causing Olivia's unhappiness.

  
  


"It's just a case of bride-to-be jitters, that's all," Hetty mumbled. "She'll come to her sense."

  
  


But Sara didn't reply. She ran out the back door. Hetty stood alone in shocked silence, stunned that her Sara had actually taken Olivia's side.

  
  


"Sara! Oh no!" It was Olivia's stricken voice.

  
  


Hetty looked at Janet and, former arguments forgotten, they ran towards the house.

  
  


Olivia saw Hetty's reflection in the mirror and screamed at her through her tears. "Hetty King! This is all your fault!"

  
  


"How could this possible happen?" Hetty sputtered.

  
  


Hetty grabbed the white box. "It has your name on it!" she cried. "They must have mixed them up in Charlottetown!" She immediately fled from the room, and no one made a move to stop her.

  
  


Hetty grabbed Olivia and Hetty back, closing the door to the main hall of the church and nodding her head jauntily at the amazed group of wedding guests.

  
  


"Hetty! What in blazes are you doing?" whispered Alec.

  
  


Without saying a word, Hetty pulled the wrong wedding dress straight up over Olivia's head, leaving her standing in her bloomers in the back of the church. Alec looked away, not quite believing what was happening. Just as quickly, Hetty pulled the right dress over her sister's head and began fastening the hooks and eyes up the back. Olivia was so shocked she could say nothing, but gradually she realized that somehow, somewhere, Hetty had found her proper dress. And it fit! Perfectly!

  
  


"Now," Hetty said matter-of-factly, "let me have a look at you." She held Olivia out at arm's length and helped straighten her hair.

  
  


A smile shone through Olivia's tears, but there was no time to say anything. The orgainst began to play the wedding march, and with a tiny push from Hetty, a slightly stunned Olivia started up the aisle on Alec's arm, as beautiful as if she had been perparing for this moment forever.

  
  


She walked out of Olivia's old room and back downstairs. She went back into the palor and looked at the couch. She remembered Olivia giving birth to Montgomery on it. She remembered putting a basket for Monty to go into while she was over Olivia's head holding onto her hands. She remembered how Jasper came in and took the basket away and helped deliver Monty. She remembered how Monty was not breathing and Jasper saved his son's life with CPR. She remembered looking at the proud parents.

  
  


She walked outside onto the front porach. She remembered sitting on the steps writting. She remembered publishing everyone of her works. She remembered writing about her dear "Avonlea" after she has her appetixons out.

  
  


She walked back inside and into the kicten again. She looked at the table and remembered when Dr. Snow took out her appetixons right on the table, and on her 50th birthday.

  
  


Hetty walked back into the palor and sat on the couch. She remembered when her back went out in the bathtub and Olivia and Muriel had to help her out. She remembered how Olivia wrote an article in "The Avonlea Chronicle" comparing her and Muriel. How it made her look sensible and boring and Muriel exciting. How she was angry at Olivia. She remembered being angry with Muriel because Muriel took John away from her. She remembered finally making up with Muriel during the Misfits hockey game.

  
  


"Help," wailed Hetty, sloshing about, "Heellllp! Somebody heeeeelp!"

  
  


"What on earth?" cried Olivia, turning around. "That sound's like Hetty." She stepped through the gate and peered around the side of the house. "Hetty!" she called out in concern "Hetty!"

  
  


Olivia reached the bathhouse and wrenched open the flimsy wooden door. There she found Hetty stuck in the tub, up to her neck in water and groping madly at a wet towel.

  
  


"M-my-my back .... I can't move!" Hetty groaned, still struggling uselessly to get up. Her kicks sent yet another wave of water sloshing over into the floor towards Olivia's best shoes.

  
  


To be caught this way by anyone was utterly humiliating for Hetty, but today, it seemed, the very worst fate must fall upon her. Twisting her head, she caught sight of Muriel Stacey, right on Olivia's heels, staring through the open bathhouse door.

  
  


"Hetty!" Miss Stacey cried out anxiously.

  
  


When Miss Stacey tried to crowd into the doorway too, Hetty went a little mad.

  
  


"Out!" she bellowed at Olivia. "Get her out!"

  
  


Olivia had time to do nothing, for at that moment, Sara came bolting out of the kitchen again.

  
  


"Aunt Olivia, Aunt Olivia, the dinner's on fire!" Sara shrieked at the top of her lungs, shaken by the sight of fruit pies flaring up in the oven and smoke billowing from the charred interiors of pots that had once held Hetty's finest vegetables and gravies.

  
  


But Olivia couldn't leave Hetty trapped in the tub. Why, she might drown of her own twisting about!

  
  


"Good Lord, Hetty, what happened?" Olivia demanded, trying with all her might to pull Hetty out by the shoulder.

  
  


Miss Stacey, who was not a cool~headed super-intendent of schools for nothing, steeped into the fray.

  
  


"Olivia, you take one arm, and I'll take the other. Sara, you'd better see to the strove. Are you in pain, Hetty?"

  
  


For answer, Miss Stacey got an ear~spilling yowl as the accident victim was jerked unceremoniously from the tub. Even then, Hetty received precious little attention from her rescuers, who hurriedly wrapped her in a towel and half~carried her round to the side door in a great hurry to help Sara in case the house was really on fire.

  
  


"Oh, Hetty, here's Olivia's article," Mrs. Potts chirped, exactly as though she had just stumbled across it by accident and hadn't known it was there all along. "Ladies!" She held up one fat hand and began to read alound. "Avonlea's two faviote teachers: things you didn't know. By Olivia King."

  
  


This time Hetty couldn't hide how much she was startled, even though the paper had been lying within reach all morning. It was true that Olivia had a job of sorts with the Avonlea Chronicle for some time now, searching out local news, reporting on tea parties, and such like. Hetty regarded the job as just a bit of silliness on Olivia's part, when Olivia might better spend her time making herself useful around Rose Cottage, where she belonged. The last thing Hetty ever expected to see was Olivia's name on an article about a member of her own family.

  
  


Stiffly, Hetty sat through the "oohs" and "aahs" as Mrs. Potts read the printed column. Eventually, the "oohs" changed to smothered snickers, then broke into outright laughter. Olivia, who had just finished pouring everyone a cool drink, hovered near the doorway, growing more and more dismayed at how her article was being treated.

  
  


"Differences are the spice of life," Mrs. Potts recited, mincing each word a little for effect. "Miss Muriel Stacey, who is staying for a brief time in Avonlea, and Miss Hetty King are modern career women who have remarkably differing tastes. For example: for breakfeast, Miss Stacey adores strawberries and muffins with apple butter and coffee. Miss King prefers porridge, no salt."

  
  


"No salt!" rasped Mrs. Spencer to Hetty, making a face. "Must taste like horse feed."

  
  


"For her beauty routine," Mrs. Potts continued, "Miss Stacey is found of English powder and French night cream."

  
  


"Sounds expensive!" Mrs. Spencer cooed in awe.

  
  


"Miss King sticks to soap and water."

  
  


Hetty was done putting a good face on things. Rather than be subjected to any more, she made a mighty effort to get up, fully intending to stomp from the room. She forgot about her strained back muscles; she was doubled over in pain the next moment and collapsed back among the tumbled sofa cushions.

  
  


Mrs. Spencer sprang solicitously to her aid.

  
  


"Oooh, Hetty, let me help you up, dear."

  
  


"No, I'm fine," Hetty growled, bent only on escape. "I'm fine. Just need a little exerices, that's all. I'm stiff, you see. Carry on."

  
  


"Stiff," drawled Mrs. Biggins, nodding her head knoningly to the others.

  
  


"Stiff," confirmed Hetty defiantly, heaving herself to her feet at last in spite of it all. Shaking off Mrs. Spencer and fiercely stifling her grimaces of pain, Hetty grabbed the cane leaning against the sofa arm and hobbled towards the kitchen, supporting herself on one piece of furniture after the other as she went. The furious glare she shot at Olivia left her sister in no doubt as to Hetty's feelings. When the parlor door swung shut behind Hetty, the other women rocked forward in their chairs, tittering.

  
  


Hetty managed to reach the refuge of the kitchen and lower herself, groaning, into a chair. No sooner had she sat herself down than she all but jumped up again, for the hilarity of the vistors in the parlor carried all the way down the hall and stuck Hetty like a bucket of cold water. Then Olivia came rushing in after her, carrying a half~empty pitcher in her hand.

  
  


"Hetty..." she breathed distractedly, trying to think of something to say about the fiasco in the parlor.

  
  


Hetty turned a white~lipped glare on Olivia. She was clutching the corner of the kitchen table to hold herself upright and looked as though she would have sprung at Olivia like an scalded wildcat had her injured back only permitted.

  
  


"Olivia King, I could wring your neck!"

  
  


More pearls of mirth punctuated the scene in the kitchen. Olivia dropped weakly into a chair.

  
  


"I'm sorry. I thought it would make you sound sensible."

  
  


"Hah! Sensible!" Hetty flung back, telltale spots of fury appearing on her cheeks. "About as sensible as an old dish rag. They're not laughing at Muriel Stacey, you nincompoop, they're laughing at me!"

  
  


Olivia had never been safe from Hetty's outrage. The words of the article flashed again through Olivia's mind, this time as Hetty must have heard them. Why, oh, why hadn't she realized how dreadful all those nice sensible things would sound when compared to the fascinating life of Muriel Stacey! Now she had wounded Hetty and made her a laughingstock to boot. It was all too much for Olivia. Her lips began to quiver and her hands to shake, splashing the juice remaining in the pitcher. Without so much as a sniffle of warning, Olivia plopped the pitcher down and burst loudly into tears.

  
  


Hetty poured Muriel another cup of thick cocoa. Then she straightened up and cleared her throat.

  
  


"Muriel, I - well, there's something I would like to say to you."

  
  


Muriel nodded. "Of course, Hetty. I knew you'd honor our bargain, and I'm sure you'll find intramural sports in the Avonlea curriculum quite exciting. You know, Hetty, I think you've got a flair for coaching, I really do."

  
  


"Thank you, perhaps, but - it's a rather more personal matter I want to discuss with you," replied Hetty.

  
  


"I suppose you want me to leave," sighed Sara.

  
  


"Not at all," said Hetty. "As a matter of fact, I would like you to hear this." Hetty took a deep breath. "Muriel, I owe you an apology. One that's twenty years overdue. Please, please don't say anything - just let me speak. The truth is, you see, that I truly did love John MacIntyre, but I was afraid of that passion. Of course I was young, and that's what my parents kept saying. They insisted that I come back to Avonlea for a couple of years, but, I have to face it - I let them insist. And a couple of years turned into several years, and, finally, John gave up. He melted away, like a forgotten snowman in a warm, winter sun. And I've always known, Muriel, deep in my heart, that it wasn't until then that you and John got engaged. You didn't steal him from me. I let him go. And I've wronged you all these years. I'm so very sorry, Muriel - so very sorry."

  
  


"What did happen between you and John, Miss Stacey?" asked Sara, somehow knowing that it was a question waiting to be asked.

  
  


Muriel spoke simply, and her rich voice warmed the room.

  
  


"We were lonely, and we thought we might make a go of it. But I think we always knew that we weren't really in love with each other. You see, Sara, I don't think John ever got over Hetty - not really. Oh, he eventually married someone else, but I always remember him saying to me 'There's only one Hetty.'"

  
  


Hetty remembered when Davey and Dora moved in with her. When Rachel had a stroke and moved in with her son Billy. How Davey was aloff at first but then he got used to Rose Cottage and her. How Dora was clinging at first but then realized that she wasn't going nowhere. She remembered when Rachel came back to Avonlea and moved into Rose Cottage. She remembered all the trouble Davey caused with his curioused.

  
  


She remembered when Sara came back from Monteal with her Nanny and told Lousia L. Banks and her that she was going to fisten her education in Pairs. She remembered how Lousia and she fought like cats on who was to go to Paris to keep an eye on Sara. Until Olivia remined them that Sara was grown an need to leave the nest.

  
  


Chapter three

  
  


Hetty decided to walk over to the White Sands. 

  
  


Once entering the White Sands entery; Hetty walked straight over to the front desk to speak with Simon.

  
  


"Hetty are you sure you want to live in England?" Simon asked with an sad look in his eyes. I miss this woman. It's been four years ago since I proposed to her and her accepting than refusing. She knew I cound't live without the White Sands and I knew she couldn't live without teaching.

  
  


TOO BE CONTIUNED....

  
  
  
  



End file.
